A Ghost of a Girl
by Ladywilde
Summary: Story Complete! Final Chpt. Mason finds himself face to face with a woman from his past. Pls read and review!...
1. Buy me a waffle?

A Ghost of a Girl

Disclaimer: I do not own Mason or any one else – property of MGM/Showtime

This is a story centered strictly on Mason – but who cares we all love us some Mason right? – This is set somewhere in the middle of season 2.

Chapter 1  
Buy me a waffle?

Mason was late as usual; he woke up in yesterdays clothes, feeling ever so slightly sick. A few swigs from a nearly empty liquor bottle and a splash of cologne and he was out the door. He made it to the Waffle Haus nearly twenty-five minutes late.

He hurried past a group of people loitering by the entrance knowing that as usual Rube would be having his ass for breakfast. He had a lot of respect for Rube but he still found himself wishing that Rube would lay off the insults just a wee bit.

Mason found his fellow reapers sitting in their usual booth eating breakfast and bickering back and forth at one another. It was really just a typical morning as far he could tell.

"Morning." He said sliding in next to his latest crush, Daisy Adair, the fallen starlet who at the moment was eating cottage cheese and fruit and trying to convince George – their group's youngest reaper at a mere eighteen, that she should take a proactive role in her appearance. George gave the finger and asked Rube for her post it.

"In a minute," Rube said absently as he turned his attentions to Mason.

"Oversleep?" he asked with a not so pleased eyebrow raised in honor of his annoyance.

"I was bloody tired Rube." Mason said leaning over and sniffing Daisy's hair.

"You smell good love."

"You don't." she replied in a snippy voice and scooted over.

He turned and looked back at Rube – "So what's good today?"

"The pancakes were lovely," a short pause, "So you set the hours now is that it Mason?"

"Rube…." George said from her place at the end of the booth. "Rube." Her voice got a bit higher as she found herself ignored. This whining caused Roxie dressed to kill in her police officers garb to lean across the table and give George one of her famous 'shut the fuck up' faces.

"Do you mind – the man's working." She stated matter of factly as she dismissed George with a wave of her hands. Roxie shook her head and agitation while she shoved a fork full of eggs into her mouth.

"Well I am going to be late for work." George said rolling her eyes at Roxie. "Rube…" She started again.

"Be with you in a minute peanut." – Rube said quietly as he turned his attention back to Mason.

" Mason – let me make myself clear – I do not care what you do – or better yet how much you do – but one thing you will not do – is show up late – do it again and I will make your ass a hat - got it?"

"Got it." Mason replied and lowered his head which he then dropped down onto the table with a resounding thud.

He heard Daisy gripe about her coffee being split or some such bullshit. He closed his eyes and thought how lovely it would be if he could just get up and walk out of the Waffle Haus and be on a plane to a tropical island all by the time noon rolled around.

Sometimes this whole grim reaper thing got to be a bit lame.

He lifted his head up and turned it towards Daisy.

"Buy me a waffle love?" he asked and smiled.

"You don't need food – you need a bath which I am not giving you either – so don't bother asking!" she said turning back to her breakfast.

Mason sat up as Rube handed out the post it's.

Mason glanced at his and then at the clock.

It was in forty five minutes – great! Like he could just teleport himself across town - Bloody Hell!

"Can I have a ride George?" He asked as he turned to George whose surly expression gave away her answer before she spoke.

"No – I am so late." She pushed out of the booth barely waiting for Daisy or Mason to get out of her way.

Mason stepped aside to let her pass – and watched as George tore out of the restaurant like her ass was on fire.

"So – I guess I better get walking." He said as everyone went back to eating.

He shrugged and looked down at his post it.

"Well then later all." He said as he pocked the post it and got ready to leave.

There was no response except for Rube who looked up long enough to give him the evil eye and a "Don't fuck up."

Mason left the restaurant marveling at the other reapers. They were all so terrible at relationships – at friendships even – hell all they did was fight and insult one another and they were supposed to be his family? That made him terribly sad. He hurried to the bus stop and pulled out the post it.

F. Vanderhutton---- it read. –

"There's a fucked name." he said chuckling a bit, a he turned up the collar of his denim jacket and made his way quickly to the bus stop.

Please kindly read and review! Next chapter should be up soon – Thanks for reading!


	2. Chance Ecounters

I** am sorry for taking so long to update this story – but here it is – I hope you all like-**

**Once again many thanks to the lovely CriesofCapicorn for being so kind as correct my pitiful grammar. **

**I do not own Mason – I only wish I did **

**Chapter 2 **

**Chance Encounters**

F. Vanderhutton turned out to be a snooty, old woman dressed in what looked to be baby seal and enough diamonds to set a burglar up for life. Mrs. Vanderhutton met her end while out walking her tiny Yorkshire terrier pup. This not so bright pup decided to run out in front of a rather large bus in hot pursuit of a pigeon. Mrs. Vanderhutton, thinking only of her pure bred show dog, followed after and she, along with her magnificent diamonds, were flattened. Much to Mason's dismay, he had not managed to snag even one necklace.

Of all the ways to bite it, being hit by a bus was far from the prettiest – not that Mrs. Vanderhutton had been very pretty to begin with; not with that scrawny old neck and the pounds of pancake make up shoveled onto her scowling face. Her personality was pretty lousy, too.

"Tell me, do I look as horrendous as you, young man?" she asked Mason with a huff.

Mason, who disliked her from the start, would have gladly shoved her in front of the same bus all over again. He hated snooty rich old lady types. Mrs. Vanderhutton stood a safe distance from her corpse. She seemed disgusted with the crowds hovering over her flattened remains.

"This is all so terribly commonplace," she said, disdainfully.

God, this lady was making him nuts. Where the hell were her lights? There had to be some sort of heaven for crotchy old witches, right?

"Why are you still here?" she said to Mason, turning to him and dismissing him with a wave of her hand like a claw.

"Not 'til your ride gets here, lady," he told her, point blank.

"You bother me," she said in that haughty voice, turning back to the crowds – all of which stood around looking at those diamonds hanging off what was left of her neck.

Many were wondering how much money a necklace like that went for and if there was any way for them to get one without being noticed.

"Look at them – bloody vultures!" she said, exasperatred. "The unwashed, I call them!"

"Bloody cow," he muttered under his breath.

"Are you speaking?" Mrs. Vanderhutton asked, looking back at him as if she was surprised to see him still there.

"Yes, yes I was – because you are rude, very rude!" he retorted, fed up with her snide comments.

She stared at him with an odd look on her face and then she smiled.

"I kind of like you, young man," she said. "You have balls."

Mason's mouth must have been shaped in an O of shock. He went to say something, but before the words could come out Mrs. Vanderhutton's 'ride' showed up.

In a flurry of lights came what looked to be a department store. Mrs. Vanderhutton was pleased.

"Oh," she said, smiling. "It looks like Bloomingdales; I could use a new coat."

Once Mrs. Vanderhutton moved on to rich lady heaven, he decided there was no more use for him around this side of town.

He headed back to the bus stop to head to Waffle Haus for some lunch, and then, after lunch, maybe a walk in the park or some browsing at the used record store he liked.

They always carried a lot of rare vinyl which made him happy. He loved a lot of oldies and classic rock that was sometimes hard to come by now.

He got on the bus heading downtown thinking of what he might want for lunch – maybe a cheeseburger – that sounded like a bloody good idea.

Mason was still thinking of said cheeseburger when the bus stopped to let on a few more passengers. He was a people-watcher by nature. He watched a young girl with a blonde ponytail and a couple of shopping bags hop on. He gave her the once over as was customary for any pretty girl that crossed his path. There was also a tall African American guy around his own age with headphones and a black hoody who moved to the back and chose a window seat. His whole manner screamed, 'Leave me alone.'

The last to step onto the bus was an elderly woman dressed in a fashionable beige suit and sensible black pumps who sat down across from him and settled into her seat. He glanced up at her and thought that for an older woman she was quite attractive. The more he looked, the more the feeling of knowing her from somewhere came into play.

Where did he know her from?

The woman caught his gaze and smiled at him. It was a slightly uneasy smile as if she was weary of his attentions. He watched as her hands played with the straps of her hand bag. Why, even her hand gestures seemed familiar.

_I know you, don't I?_

Once again, the woman looked back up at him and seemed curious of him as well. However, there was no recognition on her face … and if he knew her and she did not know him, then, that would mean …

_She knew you before you bloody died._

t was then that he realized who he was looking at and all at once his body broke into a sweat. He could literally feel the panic overtaking him. This could not be the same girl. There wasn't a chance in hell, not with 40 years and thousands of miles separating them.

_It just can't be – there is no way … _

He looked back up and met her eyes and saw that they were still round and beautiful and blue.

His whole body shook as he remembered how she had been at twenty. He envisioned her as she had been before, standing before him, wearing nothing but his tee shirt. She had had him by the arms, her eyes had been red from crying, and she had been begging him.

Yet, he had shaken his head and pushed her off him. He had walked away and out of her life. She had run out into the hall and called down the stairwell after him, "Mason! Mason!"

But he had kept on walking, his head hung low. He had been ashamed.

That had been the last time he had seen her and, yet, she was always there in the back of his mind. In his mind, she had never aged. Yet, here she was now an old woman. Yes, it had to be her …

Yes, those were her eyes. There was only one person in the world that had eyes that beautiful. And that person's name was Julie Patterson … and she had had been his wife.

**Chapter 3 is almost done – should be up soon. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Isn't she a beauty?

Disclaimer: Mason belongs to MGM/Showtime – everyone else belongs to me …

Once again many thanks to CriesofCapicorn…Enjoy!

Ghost of a Girl

Chapter 3

Isn't she a beauty?

England, 1965

_Their first meeting…_

His mates were having a party at some local bloke's flat. Mason had spent a good portion of the night sampling the various 'goodies' available and listening to his friends make the occasional dirty joke which was usually directed at one of the many ladies milling about the room. The girls stood in groups – they would look over at the guys and giggle and turn away. This was enough for Mason and his pals who were either too shy or too messed up to talk to any of them. This playful bit of flirting was enough to keep the sexual tension in the apartment at maximum capacity.

Mason sat on the floor, smoking a joint with a few of his pals. There was loud music and laughter and Mason had begun to feel a bit ill; this, though, wasn't that unusual for him. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. Only to have a friend of his, a nice enough bloke named Chris lean over and jabbed him in the ribs.

"Isn't she a beauty?" his friend said, cocking his head in the direction of the girl that had just walked in.

Mason sat up in a hurry when he saw her. He didn't think calling her a beauty really said it all. She was, in his mind, perfect. He could feel his face get warm just by looking at her as she made her way inside and greeted a group of people that she knew by the door.

She was a tall and lanky girl with long corn-colored blonde hair that hung straight and sleek down her beautifully sloped shoulders. Her eyes were of the clearest blue and her smile was huge and friendly.

His friends noticed his open-mouth-stare and started in on him.

"Go over there and give her a good poke, eh?" one friend said.

"Yeah, go over there and ask her to marry you," said another.

Mason tuned them out and shook his head as he reached for a bottle of Seagram's that a friend had in his hand. He took a swig and continued watching as she made her way around the room. She had stopped and said hello to a few people, but there was something about her that said: loner.

It intrigued him, as did the way her yellow skirt swished around her long legs.

The girl had finally settled into a conversation with a group at the far end of the room. She did not speak often – only smiled and nodded when someone would turn his or her attention to her. Otherwise, she sipped from a bottle of beer and seemed bored. She had a look on her face as if she knew this was all a big joke.

He saw the girl look up and lock eyes with him as she took a sip of her bottle.

He saw her lips curve a faint 'hello' and she tilted her head towards the front door. He nodded slightly towards her as if to say 'Yes'.

"I need some air," he said. He stood up, though he was a bit dizzy from the drugs and the liquor that he had spent a good portion of the night consuming.

"You're chasing down the blonde," Chris said, with a huge grin.

"No!" Mason shot back as if the idea was absurd.

His friends thought this hilarious and they began to laugh at his expense.

"Slap this on first, mate," a voice said as he was hit in the shoulder with a condom. He shook it off and the verbal jabs at his expense.

"Bloody animals!" he replied as he pushed past them and made his way out the front door. He slammed it behind him, blocking out their boisterous laughter along with the smell of booze and pot.

He hurried out the door and down the two flights of stairs to the street. A gust of cold air greeted him as he pushed open the security door and stumbled out onto the sidewalk. He thought, at first, that she had left, but then he turned and there she was – smoking a cigarette and smiling at him.

"Hello – I'm Mason."

She offered him her hand. "Julie," she said and took a drag.

"A bit brisk, eh?" he said, struck dumb by the fact that this beautiful girl was even allowing him to speak to her.

"I like it cold," she said, inhaling deeply. "It makes me feel alive."

"I do need a bit reminding sometimes," he said and he was pleased when she laughed.

"So, Mason, is this all there is to British nightlife?" she asked in what he realized was an American accent.

"If you're a penniless bloke – why yes."

She thought that was funny and chuckled a bit. "I like your accent," she said.

"Thanks, but I find my face gets in the way of it just a bit," he kidded.

"Well, I like both – your face and the accent."

There was a small pause.

"Would you like one?" she asked, holding her cigarette out to him.

He shook his head. God, she was lovely! She made him feel like a sixteen year old kid alone with a girl for the first time.

"I feel like walking a bit. Would you like to come?" he asked her.

She took another drag and flicked the cigarette butt into the gutter.

"You don't look particularly dangerous," she said, in a teasing voice as she contemplated his suggestion.

"I am a bloody boy scout. Come on – the worst I will do is perhaps try and kiss you."

She laughed and shoved him playfully in the chest. "That's all well and good, but what if I kiss you first?"

"Then I would be honored," he said sincerely.

She met his eyes and nodded as if she knew that she could trust him. She reached out for his hand and pulled him off of his spot on the wall.

"Hold on to me – you're swaying a bit." He clasped her hand and leaned into her.

"I am a bit intoxicated," he admitted.

"Noooo!" she said in mock horror.

"No, it's true; I might have mixed a bit."

"Well then you might want to take this slow," she said as she helped to steady him and get him moving.

They walked a long time and in that time, they found they had a great deal in common. They liked similar movies and music and so on. It was perhaps the happiest that Mason had ever been and he wanted the night to last forever. He kept glancing over at her and marveling at her beautiful face. The freckles that dotted her little snub nose. The long lashes over those round blue eyes. The smell of her perfume – like incense and roses, it was heavy and intoxicating. He was drunk on her and turned to her as she talked. She was talking about her family back in the states – how they expected so much from her that she felt a bit overwhelmed. He reached for her face and she drew back as if his touch might burn her. He was perplexed, but he let the moment drop. She walked away from him and he followed after her. He called her name, and turning, Mason found that the expression on her face was a sad one. She told him, then and there, that she was engaged to a bloke back in the U.S. that she had known all through high school. This admission took him aback.

"Oh," was all he could say.

"I should have told you from the start."

"Well, yeah, that would have been an idea," he said, reeling from this bit of news.

"I'm sorry. Can we be friends? I really like you and –" she seemed so upset and so beautiful in her explanation that he found himself nodding.

Inside, though, he felt hurt and sad. She would not be his – that much was obvious.

Then, she was crying. Her head was in her hands and she sat down right there on the sidewalk in the middle of the night and she cried. He stood there, feeling dumb. He didn't know what to say. God, he liked this girl. He liked her a lot and in the short time they had spent together, he felt as if he always had known her, as if she and he had been one in the same. She lifted her hands from her eyes and looked up embarrassed.

"I don't want to marry him. My father – he thought …" she was speaking quickly, as if she were afraid she would never get the words out if she did not say them in a rush. He found himself nodding as if the words that poured out of her made sense to his drunken ears.

Yet, he wanted to understand her. He wanted to have her confide in him even though it hurt him, still trying to digest the fact that she was not to be his. Why, then, had she even wanted to talk to him?

"So you're just some rich kid – slumming a bit, were you?"

He knew his words were vicious and mean and yet he could not stop himself from saying them.

She shook her head as if clearing away those words, brushing them aside and getting to her feet. Her face was a mask of hurt and then there were the tears dripping down the sides of her face – from the corners of those brilliant blue eyes.

"Please don't think that – it's complicated."

"Do you love him?" he asked, looking at her standing there so lovely and sad.

God, they had only known each other two hours at the most and already she had broken his heart with those sad blue eyes of hers and her beautiful voice.

"No," she said. "I want you to understand because –"

"Because why?" he said and then he realized that he sounded desperate and foolish. He turned from her and then he heard her start to cry again.

"My family is rich – not just kind of rich – really rich," she said. "I told you how they expect me to marry well and finish college and live this ultra-perfect life, but that's not me. I want to live for myself – I want to be like you."

He turned and snorted at that. "Me?" he said, almost amused that she could suggest such a thing. "I'm a bum, Julie. I sleep on whatever bloke's couch I can … I never even finished school. You don't want to be like me."

"But you're free – you answer to know one but yourself," she insisted, pushing her long hair out of her eyes.

"This is not freedom," he said sadly.

She turned her back on him and started crying. "You despise me," she said. "Of course you do – I am nothing but a spoiled, rich girl and a liar."

There was something so sad about those words and so honest that he felt even more drawn to her. He knew this was insane, and, yet, he felt as if they already belonged to one another.

He came towards her and pulled her to him and held her to him in a tight bear hug. He could not help but enjoy the feel of her warmed skin and the heat of her breath. This girl was everything he had ever wanted and then some. He wanted her in his life – even if she was to be someone else's wife at this moment she was his girl and she was in his arms.

She allowed him to hug her. Her arms wrapped around him and in his ear she was murmuring, "I never felt this way. I wish – I want ..." she trailed off. They were all nonsense words – words with no real connation. He wanted to take them and wish them away – wish them both away.

"It's okay. You don't need to apologize," he said, at last, as he felt her come apart in his arms sobbing and muttering. It was then he realized how truly unhappy this girl was; how heavy the weight was pressing down on her thin shoulders.

He wrapped her up even tighter and kissed the sides of her face and her neck. He tried to soothe her with kisses and words.

This seemed to calm her and she stopped speaking and allowed him to hold her and then he spoke to her. He knew it was a combination of the drinks, the drugs, and the intensity of the moment, but he could not stop them – the words poured on out.

"If I told you that I love you, would you think I was crazy?"

There was silence and then she was pulling back from him. Her eyes were on his own, searching them for what he did not know. Then she leaned over and kissed him. It was only a peck, really, and then she settled back into his arms and nestled her cheek against the roughness of his jacket.

"Not at all," she said.

Chapter 4 should be up by the end of the week - As always reviews are always welcomes – Thanks 


	4. The Nature of Love

Once again – Mason does not belong to me but I do own Julie and Tim and the story so here it is – I hope you all like – please leave me a review – I live for them – so please be so kind as to reward me for my efforts – I am most obliged. Sorry for the wait… hope you all like…Also many thanks to CriesofCapricorn for her help as always – she rocks!

Ghost of a Girl

Chapter 4

The Nature of Love

They did not become lovers that night or the night after. In fact, it was quite a while later. They became friends, which seemed like the sensible thing to do, seeing how she was engaged to someone else. However, there was always that spark between them.

They both felt it when they were alone together. There was always a sense of belonging when they hung out. They did not have to speak or address these feelings; they were just there hanging in the air around them.

He found himself ditching his friends to spend time with her. He no longer cared as much for the partying or looking for girls. He felt, for the first time in his life, a reasonable contentment and, for a while, that seemed enough.

She lived with another girl in a fashionable flat near a rather large park. He usually sat out by her stoop and waited for her to get back from her classes. He often brought her flowers or a record (usually shoplifted from his favorite record store). It always made her smile to see him. She would always accept his gifts with the shyest of smiles and tell him that he shouldn't have, but he knew that they pleased her and making her face light up was fast becoming his new drug of choice. The high her company brought him was enough to keep him walking on air for days.

Every time she would round the corner, carrying an armload of books and that shy grin, his heart would beat widely in his chest and his palms would sweat. He was pretty sure it was love. He just knew that he loved her and the idea of her marrying someone else always brought feelings of jealously, anger, and hurt. He wanted to have her for himself, but he, for one, had never been all that good at expressing himself; he kept on playing the part of the charming, befuddled 'friend.'

As she would come up to him, balancing that armload of books, she would reach over and hug him with one arm and plant a kiss of his cheek. The sensation and the smell of her perfume always brought the same sweet mixture of bittersweet pain and longing.

"Let me run inside and get a coat," she would say in that charming American lilt.

They did not need to speak. Sometimes, they just walked in silence, each lost in thoughts they could not articulate. Other times, they chatted of inconsequential things like favorite songs and foods and some such inane banter.

Their meetings were much of the same. Both of them enjoyed the outdoors and they would spend many an afternoon taking long leisurely strolls through the park.

They would stop sometimes to hide along the trees, smoke a joint, and, then, find a grassy spot in a field and look up at the clouds as they rolled past. And they would talk about everything and anything.

On one particular afternoon, they laid on the grass doing just that when she leaned over, propped herself up on one elbow, and looked down on him with a strange expression in her eyes. Her long blonde hair came over him in a curtain and he went to speak to ask her what was the matter, but she kissed him and he responded. How could he not? Her mouth was like warmed honey and her hair felt like silk as he twisted his desperate fingers into the thick of it and pulled her closer to him. They kissed for a while until the urgency of their kisses caused her to pull back. She sat up with wide eyes and her hand over her mouth as if she was scared. He sat up in a hurry and went to wrap his arms around her, but he held up a hand to ward him off.

"Please…" she whispered.

"Julie," was all he could say. His mind was racing in a million different directions and his heart felt ready to come apart in his chest. He wanted her so badly, his whole body ached with the need of her, and, yet, he could not say those things. She looked over at him and told him that she was sorry. "Darling…" he whispered. She stood up quickly and began to back away from him. "Julie, please," he all but begged of her.

"I'm sorry Mason – I shouldn't have –" she turned and ran from him. He watched her flee, still feeling the taste of her lips and the bitterness of that one kiss which she was already reclaiming. He felt haunted by her, by her scent, by her eyes … this ghost of a girl that he loved but could not have. Somehow he would make her real, there had to be a way for things to work because she loved him and he loved her.

He stayed away for three weeks. In those three weeks he went on the mother of all binges consuming whisky by the bottle and pills by the handful. Hell, even his junkie friends warned him about his consumption. But he didn't care; he no longer had Julie. She had made it clear when she had run away from him that she wanted to be with her rich American fiancé and why shouldn't she? He was just a bum.

--

Then, one night while he wandered alone in the park drunk on cheap booze, he found himself at the grassy spot where they had kissed. He went over to the spot, laid on it, and he cried. He had not cried like this since he was a small child and his mother had passed away from bone cancer. He had not understood, then, why he was being left alone without his dear sweet mum, with her huge smile and soft hands or why his father suddenly drank way too much and beat him with a belt when he was naughty. He had not understood, then, the nature of pain and love, but now he did. Love was sharp claws with razor sharp teeth and it tore at your insides until it finally ate you alive. It was then and there he made up his mind to fight for her. He would tell her how he felt and if she refused him, then, he would turn around, leave, and somehow learn to undo her face and her smile.

He walked up to her apartment and banged on the door. She answered her door with a mask of shock on her face.

"Mason," she said, as she glanced behind, nervously.

She was a vision in jean bell-bottoms and a white tank top.

"I need to talk to you," he said, leaning against the doorframe to keep from falling over.

"Now's not so good," she said in a low whisper.

"It has to be now," he said, slurring his words.

"Are you drunk?" she asked and she stepped out into the hallway. Her voice was soft and kind. He could see the pain in her eyes and it comforted him, somewhat, to know that it mirrored his own.

"A wee bit," he said, sagging even farther into the doorframe.

"You have to go home, Mason," she whispered in an urgent tone.

"Not yet, love."

"We'll talk later," she insisted. "Please go –"

Yet, all he did was reach up and touch her face. "God help me, you're beautiful."

There was a sad smile on her face and he saw that her eyes were filled with tears.

She let him touch her and run his finger along the smooth line of her jaw. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again they were wet with tears.

"Don't you know that I love you – _really_ love you?" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. The tears began to spill down her cheeks.

"Mason – please," she begged backing slowly into the apartment. "Just go home."

"Who is it, babe?" A voice called from inside the apartment.

Mason stiffened visibly and tried to glance into the apartment, but Julie blocked his view.

"Who the bloody hell is that?" he exclaimed.

"Go home," she insisted, pushing him away. "Please."

"Babe…" the persistent voice from the living room called again.

"A friend – be there in a minute," she called to the voice.

Mason pushed her aside and went into the apartment, following the sound of the voice.

"Goddamn it, Mason!" she cried chasing after him.

He stumbled into the living room to find a guy sitting there in pressed khakis and a crew cut. The man was powerfully built and everything about him said 'money.'

"This your friend?" the guy said with a cocky smile, as he gestured to Mason.

"This is Mason," Julie said, visibly upset. "Mason, this is Tim – my fiancé," she said the last part softly. Mason eyed Tim wearily and then he turned to Julie and then back to Tim.

"Hello, Tim. By the way, I am in love with Julie."

Tim looked surprised. Julie paled and went to speak, but thought better of it and looked at both with a mixture of sadness and fright.

"Excuse me?" Tim said, his voice low and heated.

"You heard me – I am in love with her."

Tim stood up, he was a big guy and his whole manner was one of cocky entitlement. Mason hated him on sight. This guy was nothing, but a rich prick. He didn't deserve a girl like Julie, even with a million bucks.

"What is this, some kind of joke," he pointed at Mason who was swaying a bit.

Julie glanced at both of them with this sad expression glued to her face. "He's my friend," she said lamely.

Tim turned to Mason and got in his face.

"You hear that, you degenerate punk, she doesn't want you," he poked him in the chest causing Mason to nearly lose his balance.

Mason, who was too drunk at the moment to feel anything even remotely resembling fear, stood his ground and eyed Tim with a self-deprecated sneer. "Go fuck yourself, mate."

"I'll make you eat those words," Tim said, with a crazy grin. His hands clenched into fists.

"Stop it, Tim." Julie said running up to him and pulling on his arm, but Tim turned and shoved her away from him.

"Stay the fuck out of this, you bitch!" Tim shouted as Julie lost her footing and fell down.

"You asshole," Mason shouted, as he took a swing at Tim. His fist hit the rock hard slab of Tim's jaw and there was a crack. However, Tim quickly shook the blow off him and went after Mason. He took a swing at him but Mason moved out of the way and landed another shot to the face. This time, he broke Tim's nose. Tim stumbled back his hands on his face, which was by now, a bloody ruin. Tim had enough and now he turned towards his fiancé, who was slowly climbing to her feet, as if dazed.

"You fucking this asshole?" Tim demanded of Julie.

"Both of you, stop it!" she yelled.

Mason, looked at her and then at Tim. His voice was a whisper. "Julie, I love you – with all my heart and then some … come with me, please."

Tim laughed outright and wiped the blood from his face. His eyes were slits of raw anger. "She's not going anywhere – look at you – you're a nothing."

"Fuck you!" Mason shouted.

"Stop it!" Julie shouted, silencing them both. Her blue eyes went from one to the other. She turned to Mason and, in her eyes, there was a quiet dignity there that impressed him. Her voice was low and even when she spoke again.

"Let me get my coat."

Tim's jaw literally hit the floor. "What?" he said.

"What?" Mason echoed.

"I'm going with him, Tim. Go home," she reached inside her shirt and pulled out a necklace. On that chain was a ring. She ripped it off and flung it at his feet.

"Go home and bring this to my father. Let him know that I am done with him too."

Tim bent down and picked it up. He eyed her with cool distaste. "You're going to regret this –" he said, looking over at Mason who stood there, overcome with the whole moment. She had chosen him. He was so elated, he felt as if he would break into song.

"I don't agree," she told Tim, with a small smile on her face. "You were wrong when you called this man a nothing," she said, looking at Mason. "You're the nothing – you are heartless, soulless – nothing but a bloodless leech."

"Fuck you both." Tim said with a mean sneer as he went to the front door and left, slamming it so hard the plaster cracked in his wake. A collective sigh burst from both of them once he was gone. In a second's time, they were in one another's arms, crying, kissing, and clinging to one another.

"I just walked out of my life – my family," she whispered.

"We're a family now, Julie. I will always be here for you."

She looked up at him and kissed him softly on the mouth. "My dad will come for me," she said, a note of fright in her words.

"Then, we'll get married, we'll run away, we'll be okay," he assured her quickly.

There was silence as she wrapped herself tightly into his arms. "Mason, do you mean it?"

"Mean what, my love," he said, pulling back to look at her.

"That you would marry me?"

His nod was sincere. "Yes, of course."

"Tomorrow then?" she said, tearfully, as he bent down to soothe her with more kisses.

"Tomorrow," he promised.

The very next afternoon she became Julie Mason. Once she discovered that his first name was really Ebenezer, she constantly kidded him with the nickname Geezer. He was Geezer and she was Ju-lou. They were truly happy, but their happiness was short-lived. Their fairytale had started with tears, and sadly, it would end much the same way. They did not know it, then, when love was young and beautiful, that love, no matter how beautiful, never lasted forever.

There was no such thing as forever.

Thanks for reading – I should update soon as I get some of this school crap done – btw if you leave a review- I will be your best friend – buy you a drink – something? Yes this is me begging so please review!


	5. Unraveling

Chapter 5

Unraveling

Disclaimer:

Once again I do not own Mason. I only own Julie and the story.

Also, I tried to do the proofreading myself – not that I don't appreciate my beta CriesofCapricorn – but, I need the practice – so I apologize if it is less then perfect.

Enjoy!

It was good in the beginning; they had nothing but a small one room apartment and each other. Mason stopped seeing his old friends, laid off the drugs and concentrated on providing for him and Julie. He found himself a few part time jobs and things seemed to be okay. Julie continued on with her school work and then at the end of the semester things began to unravel. Julie came home in tears.

"He cut me off." She proclaimed tossing her purse on the couch. Her eyes red from crying and her face a mask of pain.

Mason was on his feet in a moment, holding his beautiful wife in his arms.

"What do you mean darling?"

"My father – he won't pay for school, I have to drop out."

Mason was concerned. "He can't do that…"

"He can and he did." Julie said pulling away. "Everything is just fucked."

"No, will work it out…"

"How can we?" Julie said and went and laid on the couch, her back to him. "We have nothing."

Mason felt as if he had been kicked in the gut. Why did she have to remind him that he was a poor bum?

"Julie… I promise will work it out."

Julie buried her face in a pillow and wouldn't look at him.

"Trust me."

"Sure." She said sounding far from convinced.

He went over to her and sat next to her and stroked her hair. He hated seeing her unhappy. All he wanted was to make her happy, and yet he couldn't. She had come from money, real money and she had given it all up for him. He was determined to give her everything she wanted but he couldn't and that made him frustrated and sad.

"Please look at me…" he pleaded.

"Just go away." She cried and pulled from him.

"Let's talk…"

She looked up at him, angry. "About what, what can you do – forget it – just leave me alone!"

He got up slowly not liking the Julie he saw. This wasn't the woman he loved. She never made him feel like a nothing before; for the first time in a long time he needed a drink.

"Fine then – suit yourself." He said as he grabbed his jacket from the couch and hurried out the front door, slamming it behind him.

He took the stairs two by two and walked out the front door and into the cold gray air. He wound up at the local pub, drunk and alone and in his head – he could hear her voice over and over again in his head

"What can you do?"

He saw her red rimmed blue eyes and heard the mean edge in her voice and for the first time since they had met, he was regretting ever laying eyes on her.

"You are kidding yourself, if you think you can make her happy." He whispered to himself.

"She deserves better then some poor bum with a 8th grade education."

He drained his glass and threw some money on the bar. He had an idea; he was going to do what was best for them both even if it meant losing the only person he had ever loved.

As always – Thank you for reading!


	6. Torn Asunder

Ghost of a Girl

_I am sorry it has taken me so long to update this story. Funny thing is, I really missed Mason and Julie. I don't know why I stayed a way so long but any who… here they are… enjoy! As always reviews make me happy… please leave one, thanks_.

Chapter 6

Torn Asunder

The first streaks of light were just coming across the sky as he made his way up the stairs to their apartment. His legs were a great deal shaky and he was pretty good and sloshed but it wasn't enough to dull the pain in his heart, in his soul… it cut far too deep. He paused outside their door. He knew what he had to do but that didn't make it any easier, considering how much he loved her. That was the thing he knew she would never understand, that he did love her. He loved her far too much that was the problem. The truth was that he was a failure, as a person and most certainly as a husband. He was a good for nothing lay about and it killed him knowing that he had failed the one person who ever gave a rat crap about him. Yet, he couldn't go on fucking up her life. She deserved everything and he knew he was the last one to give her those things. He turned the key in the lock and stumbled into the apartment. She was lying on the couch, stretched out in one of his band tee shirts, a blanket twisted around her legs. She jumped at the sound of the door closing.

"Mason your home," she said sleepily as she came to and sat up.

She blinked into the dim room; saw him standing against the wall, to drunk to stand without it.

"You went and got drunk, didn't you?" she said accusingly.

He managed to peel himself off from the wall and come towards her; he threw himself on the floor by her feet and laid his head on her lap. He could tell she was pissed at him but she let it go and casually stroked his face, his hair. He closed his eyes, savoring the softness of her hands, her scent…cinnamon and vanilla. He wanted to burn this moment into his brain.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier," she said and her words stung him.

_Oh what had he done… she would never forgive him!_

He pulled away from her and scooted away from her; he lowered his head onto the coffee table and started crying. Now, she was really worried, she got off the couch and went to him, tried to wrap her arms around him. He shoved her off.

"Mason!"

"Don't touch me, Julie, don't, please, oh shit…"

"What is it?" She was still half asleep and worried half to death. She didn't know what to do, she had never seen Mason like this before and it frightened her.

He ignored her and just kept sobbing.

"Please talk to me, is it the money… did you spend it on drugs?"

Her words hit him like a punch in the gut. He sat up and stared at her. His whole body hurt with those words. Now, he knew that what he was doing was the best thing for the both of them. Is this who she thought he was? The kind of guy who would spend their money, money they sure as shit didn't have on drugs, yeah sadly enough he was that guy. He was that guy more then he had ever wanted to admit least of all to Julie, his wife, his love. He turned his face away from her slowly and wiped at his tears and she scooted closer to him, touched his face.

"Its okay honey," she said in a soft voice and he took her hand and kissed it and then kissed her mouth.

"You have to know I never meant… I was going to give you the world."

Her eyes were sad as she searched his own for some clue as to why he was so upset; there was a funny look in his eyes that she didn't like.

"I- I called your father Julie…"

"Why?" she said horriffied as her hand went to her mouth and her eyes went very big with shock. He reached for her but she swatted his hand away and stood, she backed away from him.

"Why would you do that to me?"

He wanted to stand, go to her but he didn't trust his legs, he knew that he couldn't get up in that moment; the enormity of it, of what he was doing was pushing him down, it was a weight he knew he would never get out from under.

He didn't want to say it, say the words, make them final but there was no turning back. He knew what he had to do. He owed her better then this apartment, the half assed life he could barely afford to give her; she deserved the world on a silver platter.

He would not be the man who could give that to her.

"Because I am leaving, Julie and I'm not coming back."


	7. I Don't Want To Live Without You

Chapter 7

I Don't Want To Live Without You

_The last and final chapter should be up sooner then later, thanks again for reading…. Enjoy!_

The look on her face was one of pure shock. She turned her back to him and he saw, knew by the shaking of her shoulders that she was crying. In the early light, hair disheveled wearing only his tee shirt, he was fully aware of just beautiful she was, god! It hurt, didn't she know that this was killing him. He loved her.

She turned back and shot him an angry look, wiped at her tears, all while shaking her head.

"You said you loved me, why? I left my family – everything for you, I love you."

He got to his feet slowly and went to her but she didn't want his comfort, she wanted to hurt him, hurt him like he was hurting her. He was killing her. She went at him, slamming her fists into his chest, pushing him away from her. It was a side of her he had never seen and he was ill prepared for it so he let her hit him. She slapped his face.

"Goddamn you, goddamn you," she sobbed and he couldn't take it her pain, the rawness and brutal strength of it. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her tight against him and weakened now she collapsed against him.

"You said, promised…till death do us part, forever Julie… you said that."

He pulled her back, made her look at him. He was crying now too.

"I meant it, I did, I do…but you deserve more, so much more…I mean how long will it be before we grow to hate one another…till you start to blame me for this…"

She shoved him off her and went to the window. He watched her as she stood, ram rod straight staring out into the city, the waking world spreading out beneath them.

"Then be a man and prove it to me, prove it can be better."

"I can't…" he was so bloody tired, so full of self-hatred and yet, looking at her seeing her beautiful face turned against him in profile. He was well aware that what he was leaving would be the only thing that would ever matter to him. He was doing this because he loved her, if he didn't care, he would stay…bum around… be a fuck up. He couldn't do that to her. He didn't think he could live with himself if he did.

"Well then fuck you, Mason… fuck you!"

"I don't want to part like this…"

"Like what…what do you want, do you want me to kiss you and send you off into the world, with a 'hope it works out', huh? Is that it?"

"I fucking love you," he said crossing the space between them, he took her in his arms and held her and she was crying and he was crying and they were both holding the other as tightly as the could, not wanting to let go.

"Then don't leave me, please…stay… will be okay, will work it out."

He pulled away from her, shaking his head.

"I will always love you, Julie…please remember that, wherever I am, whatever happens… I have you with me, always… please never…"

She held onto his shirt, there was panic on her face, in her voice.

"No, please, no…I don't want to live without you, please." He pulled away from her roughly and hurried towards the door. He had to leave, he had to do it now or else he never would. He couldn't do this to her, she just didn't know, didn't realize that it was all fucked. He would never make her happy not in the long run. He was giving her another chance at a better life, one he would never be able to give her.

He closed the door behind him and hurried down the stairs, but she was opening the door, chasing after him.

"Mason, please…Mason…please don't, please…" she pleaded from the landing but he was already to the security door, one door, one way – he knew he would never see her again. This was it… he pushed open the door and stepped out into the frigid, early morning air…she was still calling to him as the door closed behind him. He made it only three blocks before the horror of it all, the absolute finality of what he done hit him like a ton of bricks and collapsed right then and there on the sidewalk, sobbing till it felt as if the very walls of his chest were coming apart.

Less then a year later… he was dead.


	8. Face to Face

_Final chapter…please kindly read and review. Thanks._

Chapter 8

Face to Face

He was startled from his memories by the sound of someone signaling their stop. He looked up and saw that it was Julie, who had pulled the cord, she was getting up carefully as the bus rolled to a stop. She reached for her shopping bags and knotted them through her hands.

She caught Mason's eye as he watched her and gave him a quick, uneasy smile as she made her way to the front of the bus. There had been no recognition in her eyes. She had not seen even the smallest trace of the young man who had once been her husband, nearly forty years ago. Mason jumped to his feet, not even aware of what stop it was or for the matter much caring. He hurriedly got off.

He had lost sight of her, twisting his head from left to right, he desperately tried to catch at glimpse of her.

A second of panic past, were he thought he might have lost her but then he found her in the crowd, she had her back to him and was hurrying down the street as if she had somewhere important to be. He started following after her, he wasn't sure why.

Would he speak to her? He wanted to, more then anything. He had dreamt of her for so long, wondered about her, tried to imagine what life would have been like if they had stayed together. He wondered now as he studied her purposeful strides if things had been different would he now be a hunched over old man, holding her arm, carrying her shopping bags?

It had seemed so long ago, a lifetime since the old woman in front of him had been the beautiful young girl who had taken his heart and never given it back.

The realization of that, of time and it swiftness nearly overcame him.

Where had he been for forty years? What kind of limbo was he stuck in?

He quickened his steps, needing so badly to speak to her, apologize. Yet, how could he? She believed him dead and buried? What did he need to prove? Hadn't he done enough damage to both of them?

He knew that the only thing he would succeed at would be frightening her and possibly pissing Rube off if he actually ever found out. Yet, he had lived so long keeping on the edge of society, blending in but never fitting into it that here and now, this moment, as he kept in sight the one thing, the only person he had ever truly loved. He realized that he could no longer shut out the past. Forget it and lock it down deep within himself. He had to face it. Face her.

He knew he had only this one chance to tell her how sorry he was, how sorry he had always been and how if he could he would most certainly do it all over again except this time, he would stay with her.

He would never leave her. He jogged up to her before he could change his mind and reached for her, touched her shoulder. She jumped and turned, hands clutching tightly to her shopping bags, her blue eyes wide with shock.

He was taken aback for a moment, overcome by her nearness. His heart broke as he took in the ravages of time on her once glorious face. She was still so beautiful though, so beautiful that it hurt.

"Can I help you?" She muttered coolly. That voice, it was hers alright – a little rougher, a little lower in tone but it was the same. That was Julie's voice. He went to speak, willing away the lump that had found itself in his throat.

"Um – is your name Julie…Julie Patterson?" He asked quickly. She got a funny look on her face, startled she nodded and put her bags down on the ground beside her.

"It was – no one has used my maiden name in years."

He nodded, and had to turn away from her, he could feel the tears coming, the flood of them.

He turned back to her, eyes shiny. His voice thin and trembling.

"You married?"

"Who are you?" She asked puzzled and he felt her reach for his arm, rest her hand on it and he couldn't stand it. This awesome feeling of regret that consumed him, the knowledge that here standing before him was merely the ghost of the girl he had once loved and he could not turn back time and go back and make them both young and alive again. He stifled back a sob, choking on it, he bowed his head and shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm – I'm a no one…"

"Your English," she said quickly, "I lived there for a while, a small while – maybe I knew your parents."

He looked up. There was so much to say and he wanted to say it, get it all out but there was no time for it and certainly no place.

He allowed the dam to burst, the words long kept inside rushing out.

"I am so sorry Julie – for everything, all of it – I love you, I never stopped and I never will."

"What is this?" Her eyes grew even bigger and she grabbed her bags in a panic and began to back off from him. He had scared her and badly and he reached for her, saw her recoil from his out stretched hand

"Leave me alone," she hissed, "or I'll call for help."

The tears came now and he could do nothing to stop them. He wiped at his eyes and nodded.

"I didn't mean to scare you; I just needed to say that…when I left you, I made the biggest mistake of my life, one I have spent every day I have had since, face first in a bottle trying to erase but I never could and I never will, I love you Julie…Ju-lu."

At the sound of her long ago nickname, Julie's eyes with tears of her own. She began to shake, a look of utter surprise on her face, something very akin to relief and horror.

"How - how do you know that name?" She managed to gasp out.

He was shaking his head, stepping away from her.

"I'm sorry that I have scared you, I didn't mean too, I just wanted to tell you goodbye." He then turned and ran away from her, quickly less once again he lose his nerve. He had to get away from her and yet, though his heart literally felt torn to pieces inside him and he was shaking all over with nervous fear. He felt strangely good as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was crying, near sobbing and yet amidst of it all - he felt alive. More alive then he could ever recall feeling. He had been given a gift. A great one. The chance to apologize to the one person he had spent every undead year wanting to make things right with.

Down the street, standing rigid and still, watching as his retreating figure rounded the corner; Julie watched as the strange and disheveled young man that had spoken to her, disappeared from sight.

Tears rolled down her face, one by one – her lip quivering and her hands aching from the heaviness of her bags. Unable to look away, she found her lips forming a name. A name she had not uttered in nearly forty years, less it threatened to bring with it – a hurt to horrid to bear.

It was the name of the only man she had ever loved in her long life. The one who had left. Who had died.

"Mason?" she whispered.

_Thank you to all who stuck with this story through the long hiatus. You guys are awesome. I hope you liked…._


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